Only the Bell to Tell on Me

I’ve been seeing a counselor for a year and a half-ish. I’ve talked to her about my childhood and my adulthood, and I’ve been heartened by what she’s shown to me. My habits, my thoughts, my beliefs about myself all relate in some way to experiences—both positive and negative. One of the best pieces of advice she’s given me is: Childhood is a time when you have no power over what happens to you, and that is scary. Unfortunately, you come into adulthood “programmed” with the same fears you had as a child. But as an adult, you don’t have any reason to fear what you feared as a child. You are in control now. You get to make your own decisions.

This idea reminds me of what Paul tells the Galatians about how the Old Law of Judaism was an elementary authority in the life of the world that prepared the world for Christ’s New Covenant. He gives them an analogy of how the Old Law was like a child that will one day inherit his father’s wealth. “I mean that the heir, as long as he is a child, is no different from a slave, though he is the owner of everything, but he is under guardians and managers until the date set by his father” (Galatians 4:1-2ESV). Regardless of social status, all children are placed under a person, or persons, in authority. Which means a child’s development is closely linked to the emotional development and maturity of their primary instructors, be it parents, teachers, ministers, etc. As a parent, I can vouch for the fact that I have messed up my kids in ways I don’t perceive just because I’m flawed and deal with my own emotional hang-ups. No adult has a perfectly developed emotional maturity.

Yet, with my counselor’s help, I’ve been pinpointing behaviors that the child in me is still expressing. This has given me a chance to step back and take note when I’m feeling fear—fear that has no cause, fear that is a relic of the past. Because of this, I’ve been experiencing some freeing moments and building some new emotional habits. My kids are learning that Mom’s working on herself, and that working on yourself and changing your mistakes and habits is part of growing up. That’s right, kids; adults grow up too.

Yesterday, I walked into the waiting room, as usual. I rang the bell for Dr. L’s office (she’s my counselor) and plunked down on a chair. I thought about my visit with good feelings, instead of the sense of dread I’d had before that I’d find something ugly in me I didn’t want to find. Or maybe I wouldn’t be able to communicate exactly what was wrong, and it would be a wasted visit. It isn’t ever wasted, though. As long as I’m talking—and I can talk—it’s going to work out. Maybe not this session, but it will work out. Making progress that I can see and act on gives me this sense of gratitude and affection for my counselor that I never expected to feel. (Truly, I was a clam at first. I wanted to know her family and educational background and her beliefs before I ever wanted to entrust her with me.) So, I like her. I’m not afraid to be myself around her.

All that changed when someone entered the waiting room and also rang the bell for Dr. L. He sat opposite me, and I scrutinized him. (Clandestinely, of course.) Was he running an errand for the doctor? He didn’t have anything in his hands but a phone. Maybe… A stream of cold ice shot through my chest. I looked at my phone calendar, which conformed that I did not have an appointment with Dr. L. I’d moved my appointment out to be sure I was fully recovered from my surgery. (Yay, I’m recovered!)

I jumped out of my seat like the building was burning. I slipped out the door only to realize I’d left my bottle of water in the waiting room. I opened the office door again, contemplated grabbing my water, and decided I couldn’t risk it. Her bell had been rung twice; she’d be in the waiting room any minute, thinking someone was impatient to see her. She’d see me there, and she’d know I’d made a mistake. And then it would be awkward. I pulled the door closed and raced for the elevator.

She’ll never know.
She’ll never know.

Inside the elevator, I stared at the display, willing the lift to move faster. I walked the sidewalk, crossed the street to the parking garage, and pretended. The whole time I pretended I’d only been there to drop something off. Because I was not supposed to be there! When I got in the car, I breathed a sigh of relief and laughed at myself. I’d formed a new habit alright. I was used to visiting Dr. L! As much as I like her and as comfortable as I feel telling her my insecurities, she is not going to know I accidentally came to a nonexistent appointment! The only evidence? That second ring of the bell.

Author: Rilla Z

I'm a scribbler. I'm genuine. My topics of interest are: this world, the worlds inside my head, and the world to come. Oh, and cups of tea. Yes, I write about my cups of tea.

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